Morningwood

By Szabo Eduard Dragomir

Come, approach, another morning light,

Sweep over me and hear my plight
For something so stiff behests my grip.
It sends shivers down my spine, a sip
Of unearthly tingles through my nerves.
I moan lonely, and I now observe
The life fluid course down my body,
A river of crimson below me
As I rest impaled in the garden
Of Dracula, where Im forgotten.